a wood chopping fisherman
by McMuffin
Summary: When Addison's fantasy becomes all too much for the workplace, and her sultry glances to Derek become all too much to bear... what will happen? Set mid-season two around the disastrous sex episode... rating? T or M.


**Yes I am aware this is incredibly random, deal with it. :D  
**

*

Addison dragged her gaze over him in a way that could almost be deemed inappropriate for the workplace.

No, scratch that, as soon as her eyes dropped below his waistband and the hand that was holding her chart somehow moved so that her fingers were running along her lips,

_Then _it was inappropriate.

*

It had started the morning after yet another disastrous attempt at sex from the pair.

Addison had been complaining about Derek's constant need to go fishing and bring the trout into the trailer when Derek had pulled a flannel shirt over his head and grinned at her just to piss her off.

"Well maybe I'm just a flannel-wearing-wood-chopping-fisherman at heart." He had said before taking the shirt off again and getting into the shower.

Addison had been prepared to yell at her husband for even insinuating that she had married someone like that when he had slipped the shirt on for emphasis and all her thoughts were wiped away to be replaced with thoughts of a sexy husband in a flannel shirt and boxers, his gorgeous toned chest showing through the buttoned shirt.

She had sighed as he had stepped into the shower. If he looked so good, and made her hot for him, then why was the sex so bad?

*

She had begun to have thoughts about her husband out in the woods, standing knee deep in water as he flicked his rod in expertly and then reeled in an eight pound rainbow trout; gumboots, fishing pants, flannel shirt and all.

It was one of her least favourite things to think about but somehow the image was turning her on.

*

Her thoughts were invaded constantly throughout that day at work, and Derek came to see her in her office after he had caught her staring at the wall for a good three minutes without moving… In the middle of the hallway.

"Are you okay, Ad?" He'd asked her.

"Yes. Perfect." She'd smiled and nodded a few times.

He had frowned but accepted her answer for the time being, "Okay, well, page me if you need anything."

He had bent down to give her a kiss on her forehead and her shoulder a squeeze when she once again began to stare. He frowned when he saw the almost dreamy expression and had left, putting it down to being tired.

*

The fantasy began to make her look a little strange. Eating lunch with Derek in the cafeteria and not noticing him leaving for a surgery because she was envisioning him wrangling in a large shark had caused _Meredith _to come over and ask if she was okay. Luckily she lied quickly and said she was just sleep-deprived. Even faking a yawn on her way out of the cafeteria, but then having the problem of becoming distracted by the thought of Derek's fishing _pole _in her mouth.

*

The fantasy began to be a problem when she sat in the gallery watching Derek's surgery, all the while imagining the scalpel as a fishing knife, the clamp as the fishing reel, the suction tube as the rod, the sutures as the fishing line and the patient's brain as a fish.

Derek's blue scrubs were in her eyes blue flannel clothing and the splashing of blood was actually the splashes of river water on the rocks. The chatter of the nurses was the bird calls and Karev's finger poking her was actually a branch from a nearby tree. _Wait, what? Karev's finger?_

Oh, she had missed a page because of being in fantasy-land. Luckily it was no major emergency.

*

The fantasy was a real problem when all week she battled her thoughts in surgeries. If she wasn't so damn good at her job, she would have killed a patient by now.

*

The worst thing however was whenever her husband was in sight, her fingers were on her lips, he was in flannel, and she would find herself oblivious to everything else around her- like two interns fighting near her, one of them being shoved into her, and her ending up with a minor concussion.

That and the concerned looks Meredith, Alex, the Chief and Derek were shooting her- _they _were the worst consequence of her extreme fantasy.

*

"Addie, are you sure you're okay?" Derek asked, staring her in the eye, both to see she wasn't lying and also the check her responsiveness, in case the concussion was worse- she had been hit hard.

"I'm fine, Derek, honestly-"

"I don't believe you. How did you not notice all their screaming and yelling and move out of the way?"

She shrugged and rolled over away from him on their bed.

He sighed. "Addison, please, talk to me… if this is about us… I promise I'm trying, really…" Seeing her unresponsiveness he trailed off thinking she was ignoring him. "I love you."

She rolled over and snuggled into his chest silently.

She was thinking about flannel.

*

After two weeks it got too much for Derek, the smouldering glances he thought Addison was giving him, seeing her fingers on her lips when she was just brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

He was going crazy, unable to see if she was actually staring at him sexually or if it was just his imagination. With her distracted and slightly distant behaviour, he thought the latter.

That was, until he saw her visibly undressing him with her eyes as he did the same to her. Two weeks without sex for fear of it being as bad as last time, and the erection he was thankfully able to hide with his lab coat was harder than ever.

Addison however noticed the slight uncomfortable demeanour he was currently showing and knew what was going on below the belt even if she couldn't see it. She strode over to him. "On call room by the attendings' locker room, five minutes." She whispered before practically running off.

*

It had been too much for her after two weeks. She was going to do something about this lack of decent sex and the crazy fantasy, which was why when Derek opened the door to the on call room he found his wife in a pair of gumboots, one of his flannel shirts and a black vest.

*

"Wha-"

He was cut off by Addison striding over to whisper in his ear as she looked the door behind them. "For two weeks I've been fantasizing about you in flannel and fishing…" She whispered sultrily.

He gulped. "But you hate it."

"Maybe I don't…" She whispered, "Put those on."

She gestured to the pile of fishing clothes on the bed.

*

Originally she'd planned the wood-chopping-flannel-wearing-fisherman-role-play-sex to be complete with fishing and all, but at work that was a little odd, even despite her weirdness the past few weeks.

Plus, Derek's rod was more than enough for her.

*


End file.
